Journey To Plastic Beach
by Kyle on Ice
Summary: Mal's never going to be able to break herself away from Gorillaz. Even if she really wanted to.  Ever so slight Mal/Murdoc. Easily ignored if you don't fancy it, though.


"Murdoc, what's this?" Mal had been greeted/surprised by Murdoc's sudden appearance in her apartment. It'd been years since the El Mañana tragedy, though she still kept tabs on all of the band members—save for Noodle.

Whatever was standing next to Murdoc obviously wasn't Noodle, but it certainly did look like her. The Noodle look alike stared ahead at nothing with an unflinching, blank stare. Mal felt her eyes grow misty. How could this thing look so much like her baby girl, and yet clearly be so different? She pitied the thing. It would never fulfill the expectations people had for it, and it could never fill the void Noodle's death had created.

"This," Murdoc gestured to the fake Noodle, "is Android Noodle. Made 'er outta the scraps o' DNA I managed ta salvage from the El Mañana wreckage." Murdoc kicked up his feet on Mal's coffee table, making himself at home. Normally Mal would smack the man upside his head for sullying her coffee table with his dirty shoes. Now, however, she barely even noticed. "Murdoc! You can't just replace Noodle with some cyborg you've built! She's not Noodle!" "Obviously. I think I've done a pretty good job, though. I need a guitarist for the new album, after all." He pulled a pipe out from one of his pockets. "Don't smoke that in here." Mal snapped. He complied, opting to merely chew on the stem instead.

"Anyway, I thought you'd be more interested as to why I'm here."

"Fine. Why did you break into my apartment?"

"Awww. Ya' don't sound very sincere, luv."

"Out with it."

"Alright, alright. I'm getting Gorillaz back together for a new album. You'll be 'elping me round them up and herd 'em over to Plastic Beach."

"And why, pray tell, would I want to do that?"

He sighed as if to pretend he didn't want to have to play this card, even though he was looking forward to it. "How about because of your over-active maternal instinct that you've always outletted through the band that, once Noodle died and we all split up, you had no outlet for; leaving you to feel almost empty inside? Admit it, Mal. You live for this band just as much as I do. Even after the split up you've kept tabs on all of us. 'Cept Noodle, of course. Face it, luv. You NEED this. I'm doing you a favour by bringing you along."

Before she knew what she was doing, her right fist made contact with his face. The force knocked him back; sending his pipe flying across the room. Holding his face, he let out a long, loud string of profanities. Had she not been crying—despite her best efforts to hold the tears back –he would've been angry. Instead, seeing he'd struck a nerve, he laughed. He knew he had her, and she'd do almost anything he needed to get his band back together and the new album put together.

"Android Noodle, help Mal get her things packed! I want us out of here by dawn!" Murdoc barked in the direction of the fake Noodle, which started beeping madly after being given its orders. "Oh god! Murdoc get that thing to stop beeping! It's going to drive me mad!" Mal covered her ears. "Stop that beeping! Stop that beeping! Christ!" Murdoc yelled at the incessant golem. The beeping waned, and it began retrieving items from the nearest room and placing them in the foyer.

"Murdoc, give me a cigarette. I know you've got some."

"Last time we talked you said you'd quit."

"Fuck that. Gimme a damn fag so I can stay sane through this shit."

"Alright, alright. Damn bossy as ever," he mumbled, placing the cigarette in her open hand.

"Light," she demanded, moving the fag to rest in between her fingers.

"Tsk tsk, luv. Such horrid manners. Not even a 'please'."

"Don't test me, Niccals," She growled. The sudden tidal waves of stress that had been thrust upon her in the past ten or so minutes were making her body crave for her old friend—heavenly nicotine.

He fuddled around in his pockets, hastily pulling out a worn old lighter with (surprise surprise) and inverted cross on either side with the inscription 'Hail Satan' underneath.

Once the cigarette was lit, Mal couldn't put it between her lips fast enough. She inhaled deeply, a look of relaxation gracing her face almost instantly. Savouring the smoke for a few more moments, she finally exhaled the smoke through her nostrils. Murdoc laughed.

"You look like a dragon. Rather fitting, actually."

Mal inhaled another lungful, this time blowing it out in Murdoc's face; making him cough. Even though she now only saw him a few times a year (the last time being nearly four and a half months ago), their old dynamic was quickly returning.

Still coughing, Murdoc managed to growl out his current opinion of her "Bitch."

"Only when necessary" came her reply.

The ease with which she resumed her former role suggested just how lost she'd been without her band.

"Have you gotten 2D or Russel yet?" she asked, disappearing to dig out some old boxes she could store her possessions in for the move. "Don't know where they are. 'S part of why I came to get you." He'd followed her to the laundry room, though with no intent to help. He just wanted to watch her struggle with the task he'd thrust upon her. Tossing aside a few random and miscellaneous cleaning products and tools, she finally came upon a large pile of folded-up cardboard boxes left over from when she'd moved into the apartment.

Hesitating before calling out to the cyborg Noodle, she instead turned to address Murdoc. "I don't like your robot's name. I'm not going to call it 'Android Noodle'."

"So what are you going to call it, then?" he challenged.

"…Mmmmmm…Annie. It matches her initials."

"That's stupid. It'll never answer to that. I didn't program it to."

"Then I'll add it to her programming! And don't give me 'It's my robot and you can't mess with its programming', 'cause I'll do it anyway!" She stood her ground against the stubborn Satanist.

Finally, he relented. "Fine! Android! C'mere!"

The cyborg dropped the item it had been carrying, walking over to Mal and Murdoc. Mal cringed, grateful that the dropped object hadn't been fragile. "Tell her to stay still while I modify her programming." "Stay still while Mal modifies your programming."

[One boring and considerably long session of programming later….]

"And…..It's done. Annie." The newly dubbed android jumped to attention in recognition of its new name. "Get back to packing my things. Here're some boxes to pack everything in. Organize accordingly." Annie nodded, taking the boxes, and went to work.

"So what're we doing after I'm all packed up?"

"I'm gonna get you over to Plastic Beach. Get you all set up. Then you're gonna take me to where ever Face-ache's been 'idin away."

"Actually, he moved into a new apartment not too long ago. Little flat in Beirut. Nice view."

"What're the chances I won't haf'ta gas the little snot to get 'im ta Plastic Beach?"

The two walked back to the living room. Mal dug out an old ashtray from one of the unclosed boxes and placed it on the coffee table. Murdoc kicked back in a soft, caramel-coloured recliner. Sitting across from him was Mal, who'd opted to sit on the matching loveseat.

Tapping her cigarette against the ashtray, Mal answered him "Not likely. He's told me at least twenty times he's content where he is now. Poor boy's practically scared shitless you'll come drag him away."

Murdoc laughed at this "As well he should!"

"Murdoc, I swear to Vashti and Esther if you hurt that boy I'll send you straight back to Hell for a follow-up visit."

He scoffed at her threat "What 'bout Russ?"

"NYC."

"He crashing with Ike Turner again?"

"I think. I'll have to double check."

For the next several hours the two just talked. Mostly about the album Murdoc was starting to put together. They began to pile a list of collaborators Murdoc wanted on the album. It was usually Mal's job to get the collaborators on board, and with the limited correspondence courtesy of Gorillaz' latest location, she would be lucky to get even half of the musicians on Murdoc's list. Continuing on, he explained the outline of the album and how he envisioned it. Every now and then Mal would make small suggestions and they'd jot down a few notes based on said suggestions.

Many hours and nearly a pack of cigarettes between the two later, Annie had finished packing. The only things not packed into boxes were the belongings too big to stuff in a box. "Right. Cyborg, you start taking these boxes down to the moving truck and pack 'em in the back. Mal, you an' I'll start bringing the furniture down…..You know what? Change of plans. Cyborg, you'll help Mal bring her furniture down several flights of stairs, and I'll bring the boxes down in the elevator,"Murdoc ordered. "How very generous of you," Mal rolled her eyes at his laziness. "I'm a very generous person, luv," he grinned, giving her a suggestive wink before disappearing from the apartment with an armful of several smaller boxes.

As he left, Mal mimed gagging herself with her finger, complete with gagging noises and all. Annie barely suppressed a slight giggle at the expense of her creator.

"Alright. Let's start by taking the loveseat down to the truck." Mal instructed. Annie nodded, grabbing one end of the loveseat while Mal grabbed the other. Moving the furniture down eleven flights of stairs proved to be initially difficult for the lopsided duo. The two had to develop a system for moving the large objects to make their task easier to accomplish.

The surprising number of fellow tenants using the stairs taxed Mal's nerves and made the already trying labour more difficult by creating the need for Mal and Annie to move the bulky objects around these people without knocking them down the stairs.

The queen-sized was particularly challenging, and Murdoc's refusal to help dismantle the bed frame, desk, and entertainment center didn't make the moving process any easier or shorter. The only things left in the apartment were things too difficult for the three to move such as the refrigerator, washer, drier, among other things. Murdoc and Mal agreed they would return with professional movers to take care of these things, and locked up the apartment in the meantime.

Once they were finished, Murdoc ordered Annie to stay in the back while he and Mal sat in the front. Murdoc reached for the handle of the driver's side's door, but Mal smacked his hand away. "Oh no you don't. I'm driving. You can't be trusted with a vehicle this big. Go on, get on the other side."She shooed him around to the left side of the truck. He begrudgingly complied, albeit with grumbles of "Bloody manager. Been back not even a day an' she's already bossin' me around. Tellin' me wot I can an' can't do…" Mal ignored his childishness, knowing it was better to start an argument on it.

The drive felt longer than it actually was. Other than the occasional quarrel, the drive was relatively silent. The silence would occasionally be broken when he would give her directions and tell her where to turn.

Every now and then Murdoc would try to sneak his gnarled grimy hand up Mal's leg. Each time she'd calmly slap him away. "You've been on that island far too long," she finally said. "Tell me about it," he snorted in reply.

The remaining drive was accompanied by the static-y growl of old school Punk and Metal emanating from the radio. Every now and then Murdoc would sing along and Mal would howl in discomfort from his nails-on-a-chalkboard voice. Mal tried singing along once or twice, but her voice rendered the lyrics with more of a Jazzy sound, so she soon stopped.

The truck pulled up to the port where Murdoc had left his surprisingly spacious submarine right as the station they'd been listening to had finished playing "Little Miss Disaster", courtesy of _The Damned._

Packing everything from the truck into the submarine proved even more difficult and frustrating than carrying the furniture down eleven flights of stairs. The task required patience, planning, and careful space consideration that almost defied the laws of physics.

Mal nearly shoved Murdoc into the water when he started carelessly tossing boxes on the floor of the submarine from the hatch.

When everything was finally packed into the sub, there was scarcely any space left for the emotive cyborg, the demonic bass player, and the motherly manager. Nevertheless, the three squeezed past the boxes, and Murdoc moved to the front to take his place as captain. Mal situated herself on the crème-coloured couch behind him; whilst Annie stood lifelessly next to her creator, having switched to 'stand-by' mode.

Mal found herself both slightly unsettled and somewhat comforted by the maniacal cackle the green man in front of her bellowed out as the unlikely shipmates shoved off to sea. Unsettled because she knew him, and knew that cackle could never mean anything good. Comforted because she _knew_ that cackle—it was familiar to her, and hearing it meant she was nearly home again.


End file.
